


Working With Dad

by blankety blank (doll_revolution)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doll_revolution/pseuds/blankety%20blank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a good job makes all the difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working With Dad

## Working With Dad

by Blankety

Pet Fly and Paramount own these characters, and I do not. Make of that what you wish.  


As always, for Alyjude.  
Also, I'd like to thank Dolimir and Aly for their most helpful suggestions. Any problems this story has is NOT their fault. (Mine, mine, mine!)

The rating is mostly for the nasty, anti-mom language.  
Obviously, this takes place BEFORE 'Warriors'

* * *

Jim Ellison swallowed the last bite of his toast and glanced irritably at the clock. "Sandburg, get a move on! I'm supposed to be at the station in 20 minutes!" 

Blair's voice came back, muffled by the door to his room, "Calm down, Jim! I'll be out in a second, I'm almost done!" 

"Yeah, well, you've been 'almost done' for about a half an hour there. What's the hold-up? Flannel gridlock?" 

"Ha ha ha, asshole." 

"Whatever! Just hurry up, okay?" Jim wiped down the table, put the dishes away, and filled up his travel mug. He glanced at the clock again and sighed. "Dammit, Sandburg-" His voice broke off in shock as Blair came out of his room. In a suit. 

Blair Sandburg was wearing a SUIT. 

Blair coughed nervously. "Well? How do I look?" He wiggled his eyebrows and gave a little bounce. 

Jim just stared at him and didn't answer. An expression of dismay crossed Blair's face. "Ah, man, I knew it! I look like an idiot, don't I?" 

Jim's mouth closed with a snap. "Not at all, Chief, not at all. Here, let me get a look at you." 

Jim swept his eyes over Blair. Hair pulled back, earrings gone (hey!), black wool suit (three buttons - stylish), blue and cream striped tie, shiny black wingtips. (I didn't know he even owned real shoes) 

It was odd. He looked like Blair, except that he didn't. An odd little stranger, wearing a Blair suit. But even Jim knew enough not to say that. 

"Very classy, Chief. Conservative and classy." Jim paused. "Did one of your professors die, or something?" 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Jim! I told you about this, like a million times already! I didn't get a teaching fellowship this summer." His eyes narrowed. "That bastard Flynn is sleeping with someone, I know he is!" He waved a hand, dismissing Flynn from his thoughts. "Anyway, needing a source of income to keep me in tofu and beer, I got a paid internship at Magnolia Corp." 

"The oil company?" 

"Ah! It started out as an oil company. Now it's a multi-pronged, diversified conglomerate with interests all over the world." 

"And they need an anthropologist because..." 

Blair sighed. "Well, they're not really sure they actually need an anthropologist, either. That's why this is just an internship. Basically, what I'll be doing is keeping them informed on the cultural aspects of expansion. Customs, mores, taboos-that sort of thing. Stuff that will help them deal equitably and fairly with the native peoples they come in contact with." 

Jim grinned, a big wide, shit-eating grin. "You're working for the Man." 

"For God's sake, Jim!" 

"Admit it, Sandburg! You're just a corporate drone, working for the Man." 

"Jim? Hello? I already work for the Man. Remember? The police department?" He pointed a finger at Jim. "And stop talking like that! You sound like a bad episode of 'The Mod Squad'." 

Jim's grin got bigger. "You know I'm right! And anyway, the PD is the 'good' Man. Magnolia Corp is the 'capitalist running dog lackey oppressor' Man." 

Blair blinked. Suddenly unable to deal with Jolly Jim any longer, he said, "Hey, aren't we late?" 

"Shit!" Jim grabbed his keys, and held the door open. "Come on, Chief, let's hustle!" 

Blair grabbed his backpack, but when he got to the door, he stopped. "Jim. Wait a sec. Do I really look okay?" 

Jim smiled at Blair, the good smile that made his eyes crinkle and lit up his whole face. "You look great, Chief. Just like a real grown-up." 

"Jim? I'm thirty. I am a real grown-up." 

"Yeah? Well, now you look like one." Jim cuffed Blair on the back of his head, and deepened his voice. "Today, my son, today you are a man." 

"Oh, fuck you, man!" Blair said, but he was laughing as he said it. Jim shut the door behind them with a sense of satisfaction. 

* * *

Jim knew to the second the exact moment Blair stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hallway to Major Crimes. And he didn't need Sentinel senses to do it. 

First, there was the long wolf whistle from Katie in Records. (You'd think she would have tired of that after the first week.) Then, a veritable chorus of "Hi, Blair!", "Looking good, Blair!", and "Oh, very hot, Sandburg!", all accompanied by high, girlish giggles. 

Jim rolled his eyes. "Blah blah blah," he muttered sourly. For God's sake! Sandburg had been coming to the station in suits for almost two months; the women should have just calmed the fuck down by now. 

It's not that he begrudged Blair his job - oh, let's be honest. He hated Blair's fucking job. Well, not the job, really, but what the job was doing to Blair. He really WAS turning into the corporate drone Jim had teased him about in the beginning. "Insidiously, like a creeping fungus," Jim thought as he stapled his report savagely. 

At first, it was just little things. Blowing off an evening on the couch, watching the game, for a corporate meet-and-greet. Staying late, to finish up a pie chart. Mocking Jim's choice of beer. 

"Well, I've got news for you, Sandburg," Jim thought as he arranged his paperwork into obsessively-neat piles, "ALL beer is 'intrinsically plebian'. It's beer, for God's sake!" 

Magnolia really had a grip on the kid now. He was always talking about 'we' and 'our' when referring to the company's plans. He skipped the stake-out at the strip club because 'it would reflect badly on Magnolia's image.' I mean, what the hell? And when was the last time Blair ran a test on me? Asked me about my senses? Worried about a zone? 

Jim sighed. It's not like he could ask the kid to quit, though. He was a surprisingly independent cuss, for someone who had been raised in communes. He still remembered the fight he and Blair had the first summer, when Jim said Blair didn't need to pay rent if money was tight. Jim shuddered. He never wanted Blair that mad at him again. No, Sandburg was going to keep his job, and keep paying his own way, and Jim was just going to have to suck it up. Even if it killed him. 

"Hey, Jim." Blair slid into the chair next to Jim's, dropping his briefcase (briefcase!) on the floor. "Sandburg," said Jim, not lifting his eyes from his paperwork. Not that Blair noticed. He had already booted up the computer and was checking his Magnolia mail. 

Jim glared at him, and then poked Blair in the arm. "You're on government time now, Chief. Shut it down, and help me with the Henderson transcript." 

"Just a sec, okay? I'm expecting something important for our guy in Peru." 

"Now. We've got work to do." 

"It's important, Jim." 

"No, it's not important, Sandburg. Murder is important. Your stuff is just about money. You used to know the difference." 

Blair's hands stilled on the keyboard, and he slowly turned to look at Jim. "Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"You're a smart guy, Sandburg, you figure it out." 

"If you've got something to say, Ellison, just say it." 

Jim just shrugged. He'd said all he had to say. Blair glared at him and opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by Conner. She perched herself on the corner of the desk and leaned in. "Hi, Sandy," she purred. 

Jim abruptly pushed himself away from the desk. He was just not up to this at the moment. For every week Blair wore a suit, Conner's skirts got an inch shorter. Today's outfit, a pink spandex number, was so short Jim thought even hookers would think it was obscene. 

Or as Sally had said about some of the women his father had dated: 'You could see clear to Bakersfield.' "Yeah, Bakersfield and beyond," Jim thought irritably. 

Jim shook his head to clear it. "I'm going to get some coffee." He stalked off to the break room. A cup of coffee and a candy bar later, Jim felt as if he could return to the bullpen without killing anyone. He got halfway back to his desk before he stopped in shock. 

There was Sandburg, the very picture of the young, junior executive on the rise. He was leaning back in his chair, cell phone clamped to his ear while he flipped through a file folder with his other hand. 

As Jim watched in horrified fascination, Blair used his head to hold the phone to his shoulder, raised his now-free hand, and snapped his fingers at the doughnut girl. When she looked up, startled, Blair pointed at a muffin, then at his desk, and gave a little smile, never pausing in his conversation. 

Jim saw red. Without considering the possible consequences he strode over to Blair, snatched the cell phone, and spoke into it. "I'm sorry, but Sandburg is at his other job now. He'll have to call you back." He hung up and threw the phone at Blair, who was staring at him angrily. 

"What the hell is your problem? You've been as cranky as shit ever since I got here!" 

"I've got news for you, Sandburg: you're NOT here. Your body might be, but what passes for your brain is still back at Magnolia!" 

Blair stood up and pushed Jim in the chest. "Oh, fuck off, Ellison! You're lucky I show up at all! It's not like you guys pay me!" 

"See? That's what I'm talking about! It always comes back to money with you now! Who the hell are you, Sandburg?" 

"Well, apparently I'm a money-grubbing asshole, according to the Great and Powerful Ellison!" 

"An asshole is the least of what you are, Chief! You-" 

"Sandburg! Ellison!" 

Jim and Blair whipped their heads around to find Simon glaring at them from the door of his office. The rest of Major Crimes was busily engaged in NOT looking in their direction. Simon pointed his cigar at them. "My office. Now." 

Glaring at each other, Jim and Blair made their way to the office. After jostling each other to get through the door, they sat on the couch, a wide space between them. 

Simon closed the door firmly and then sat on his desk, staring at them while rolling his cigar between his fingers. Blair opened his mouth, but Simon stopped him with a raised hand. 

"Now, look you two: I don't know what's going on, and I don't want to know what's going on. What I DO want is to never again witness such a display in my department." He paused to glare at them menacingly. "Do I make myself clear?" 

"But, Simon-", "Sir, he-" 

"Quiet!" Simon's bellow overwhelmed both their protests. "I said: Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?" 

"Yeah, sure.", "Yes, Sir." 

Simon nodded. "Excellent. Now, I am going to the break room to get a Moon Pie. While I'm gone, I expect you two to TALK over your differences like civilized adults. When I return, you will have this problem fixed. And is that perfectly clear?" 

"Perfectly!", "Crystal, Sir!" 

Simon smiled, stuck his cigar in his mouth and left, closing the door behind him. Jim and Blair looked at each other, both with stubborn expressions on their faces. Finally, Blair stood up and began pacing. "Look, Jim, what exactly is your problem with me lately?" 

Jim leaned back against the couch and wearily scrubbed his hands over his face. "My problem with you is that you aren't you. You haven't been you for at least a month." 

"You know, I have no idea what the hell that's supposed to mean." 

"I mean, you're not acting like yourself! For God's sake, Sandburg, you just did the snap and point at Ellie!" 

"The what?" 

"The snap and point. You know." Jim mimicked the gestures Blair had used to get the attention of the doughnut girl. "You did the snap and point and you didn't even think about it!" 

Blair threw up his hands. "I was on the phone! What the hell did you want me to do?" 

Jim stood up. "What I want you to do is not the point. What IS the point is that a month ago, you wouldn't have been caught dead doing that! And, if you had seen someone else do it, you would have spent about ten minutes mocking them! Probably using words like 'compensatory' and 'yuppie scum'!" 

"Oh, so now you're saying I'm scum?" 

"Dammit, Sandburg, that's not what I'm saying at all! It's just, well,...look. You're always saying 'it's not the package, it's the person', right?" 

"Yeah. So?" 

"So, lately you've become the package. You're acting like you ARE some snotty, rich boy executive." 

"Oh, for God's sake, Jim!" 

"No, really, you are!" Jim rubbed his head, trying to think of a good example. "You know, these past couple of months have been like going to work with my father." 

"What?" 

"You heard me. Sometimes, he used to bring Stevie and me into work with him. Some kind of treat, I guess. He'd show us off, buy us lunch and all that, but it didn't mean anything. We were just part of his image - William Ellison, Caring Dad. 

"I mean, we were there, but we weren't important. What was important was closing the deal, getting a richer client. And if you have to use your kids to do it, or be rude to the secretary, who the fuck cares, right? At least you got the job done, you closed the account." Jim shook his head, remembering. "And lately? You've been reminding me of him. A lot." 

"That's,... that's a shitty thing to say, Jim." 

Jim shrugged. "Well, if the shit fits..." 

Blair stared at him, unconsciously playing with his cufflinks. Finally, he said, "If you really feel that way, maybe it would be better if I went home." 

Jim regarded him soberly. "You know, Blair, I think maybe you should." 

Blair flushed, and then nodded jerkily. "Fine. Fine, then." He left the office, letting the door bang shut behind him. 

Jim stood staring at the closed door for a long, long time. 

* * *

The loft was dark when Jim got home that night, but he knew that Blair was home. Jim could hear him in his room, flipping pages. Probably reading. Or writing in his journal. What did it matter, anyway? 

Jim stifled a sigh as he went up the stairs to change his clothes. It was Blair's night to make dinner, but Jim didn't feel as if he could push it. Not after the things he said to Blair at the station. 

Jim winced, remembering the look on Blair's face when he compared him to his father. "I'm such an asshole," he thought bitterly. 

He went downstairs and started to make dinner. As apologies went, it wasn't the best Jim had ever made, but at least it was a start. He decided to go for full-out forgiveness, and made tofu stir-fry with crunchy soybean salad. 

Just before it was ready, Jim went over to Blair's room and knocked on the door. "Dinner in five, Chief. You want to set the table?" 

From inside the room he heard a muffled "Fuck!". Two seconds later, the door burst open to reveal Blair in tattered jeans and a Cascade PD sweatshirt. He looked startled. 

Blair walked into the kitchen, sniffing as he went. "I thought it was my night to cook." 

"It was. I just thought, well, you know..." Jim trailed off into an incoherent mumble. 

Blair started poking around the pans on the stove. "You made stir-fry? Tofu stir-fry?" 

Jim just nodded. 

"Wow. You must really feel guilty." 

Jim sighed, as always both irritated and pleased that Blair knew him so well. "Yeah, well. You know, that stuff I said?" 

"What about it?" 

Jim shrugged. 

Blair closed his eyes, sighed, and opened them again. "Look, Jim, at least tell me one thing: did you mean it?" 

"No! Well, yes. Well, I meant it, but I didn't mean it like that!" 

Blair nodded, and then reached over to turn off the stove. "Let's go over to the couch." 

"But dinner-" 

"Fuck dinner, okay? We need to talk." 

"Oh dear God," thought Jim, as he let himself be led over to the couch. He sat down in the corner and rubbed his hands over his legs, trying to think how to express himself in a way that actually made sense. 

Blair noticed his discomfort. "Jim, before you stroke out over there, let me say something first, okay?" 

"Sandburg, I-" 

"Jim! First means I speak before you do." Blair waited for Jim to nod. "Okay. I've been thinking about what you said all afternoon, and... well, I think you're right. About me and your dad, I mean." 

Jim shifted over closer to Blair, his face flushed with shame. "No, Chief. I was out of line. I was WAY out of line." 

But Blair was shaking his head, denying it. "No, you were right. I've been acting like quite the little capitalist lately. I've been only thinking about the job, about pleasing the boss and making the grade. I've been selfish and rude to people - Naomi would have a fit." 

"Chief, don't think that way. I mean, it's just your style. You get enthusiastic, passionate even, about new things, and you kind of obsesses about them, you know, immerse yourself in the moment. But it's not wrong, and you usually snap out of it after a while." Jim sat back, pleased. He had managed to express himself fairly well, and he even used some Blair-type words. Things were good. 

Blair regarded him thoughtfully. "So. Let me get this straight. You yell at me, with all of Major Crimes looking on. I go home so mad I could spit. I spend the entire afternoon deep in intensive meditation and introspection, only to come to the horrified conclusion that you were right. I work up the courage to tell you that, but what happens then? You tell me it was all a mistake. That what you meant to tell me was that I have an enthusiastic nature and I tend to get carried away. Does that about sum things up here, Jim?" 

Knowing it was the wrong thing to do, but unable to stop himself, Jim slowly nodded. 

"ARRRRGGGH!" Blair jumped off the couch and began pacing around the coffee table, his entire body crackling with energy. "I cannot believe you, man! What's your problem, anyway? Were you dropped on your head as a child?" He stopped to glare at Jim. "You're just fucking with my head, aren't you? It's all a big joke to you, isn't it? Isn't it?" 

"Chief, calm down!" Jim reached out, grabbed Blair's arm, and swung him down into the corner of the couch. "I wasn't messing with you, I swear!" 

Blair shoved himself deeper into the corner and crossed his arms. "Well, explain it to me then, in little one-syllable words. Because you, messing with my head, is the only explanation I can think of that makes any sense." 

Jim sighed. "All right, all right. Just bear with me, though. You know I sometimes have trouble expressing myself." 

Blair snorted. Loudly. 

"Yeah, yuk it up, Laughing Boy. I'm trying, okay?" Jim took a deep breath. "You know I'm not the most optimistic guy in the world, right? So when I... get worried... about things, I usually pick the worst-case scenario and run with it." 

Blair raised his eyebrows, silently asking for elaboration. 

"Okay, okay! Anyway, so I saw you really enjoying the Magnolia job. You were a little bit self-absorbed, and I immediately blew that into you being a clone of my father. So I'm sorry." 

Blair nodded slowly. "All right, okay, I can see that. That makes sense. So now there's just one more thing I need to know." 

"What?" 

"What were you," Blair paused to make quotation marks with his fingers, "worried about?" 

"Huh?" 

"Jim, you just finished telling me your fear-based responses forced you into irrational acts of dark self-deception. So what were you afraid of?" 

Jim looked startled. "I don't think I said that." 

"You didn't use those exact words, no, but that's what you said. So quit stalling. What were you afraid of?" 

"Sandburg, I don't... I mean, I can't... it's hard, you know?" 

"I know it's hard, Jim, but you can do it. You can do anything. Just tell me." 

"Come on, can't we-" 

"Tell me!" 

"I was afraid you'd like it too much!" Jim blinked, looking surprised at what he had said. 

So did Blair. "Afraid I'd like what too much?" 

Jim spoke slowly, as if he were reasoning out what he was saying as he said it. "The Magnolia job. It's glamorous, important people listen to you, you get to use all of your education to help people. It's not like anything we offer you at the PD can ever compare." He shrugged. "Besides, they pay you. So I assumed the worst. So sue me." 

Blair stared at Jim for a moment. "You know you're an idiot, don't you? I mean, a complete idiot?" 

"What?" 

"Jim, I've worked with you for over two years. You're the best friend I've ever had, ever could have. You're the embodiment of every academic and intellectual dream I've ever had. For God's sake, I've jumped out of a damn plane for you! Do you REALLY think I'd give all that up for a stupid job?" Blair rolled his eyes. 

Jim swallowed and looked away. "Well, yeah." 

"What? Jim, what the hell-" 

"Face it, Chief. Eventually, you're going to finish your dissertation. It'll be brilliant, you'll have your pick of the best jobs, a real cream of the crop deal, and then, then... you'll... leave." 

Blair got off the couch and stood in front of Jim. He placed his hands on Jim's shoulders and waited until Jim looked up at him. "That's what you were really afraid of, wasn't it? That I'd leave you." 

Jim nodded. 

Blair smiled, a beautiful, gentle smile that turned his eyes a darker shade of blue. "Oh, Jim. I'm never going to leave you." 

"Chief, you can't promise that." 

Blair's smile got even bigger. "I can, Jim. I can promise exactly that. I will never, ever leave you." 

Jim opened his mouth to speak, and Blair shook his head and mouthed the word 'never'. Jim looked into Blair's eyes and saw nothing but pure love shining from them. The love of a good friend, the love of a bother; yes. But also a love, as Jim slowly realized with a sense of dawning joy, that was much, much more. 

Jim raised a shaking hand and placed it against Blair's cheek. Blair closed his eyes and leaned into the caress. Jim chuckled. "So what you're saying here, Chief, is that not only am I a complete idiot, but I'm a spectacularly clueless one as well." 

Without opening his eyes, Blair murmured, "Thought I was going to have to strip down and do a fertility dance to get you to really look at me." 

"I could get behind that." 

Blair leaned forward, sprawling against Jim, who gathered him up in his lap, one hand buried under rich brown curls. Blair sighed, and nuzzled into Jim's neck. "If I have my way, big guy, that's not all you'll get behind." 

Jim laughed out loud and pulled Blair even closer. "Smooth, Sandburg, very smooth! You catch anything with lines like that?" 

Blair tilted his head to look Jim in the eye. "I don't know, Jim. You tell me." 

Jim smiled. "Yeah, you caught me, Blair. Hook, line, and sinker." He leaned in, and as their mouths met in their first kiss, a perfect kiss, a wet, deep delicious kiss, a kiss that quickly deepened into a white-hot explosion of long-buried desire, sensations rolled over Jim, sweeping him into a turbulent sea of pure feeling until only one coherent thought remained in his mind: 

"I wonder if I can get Blair to fuck me in that suit?" 

* * *

End Working With Dad by Blankety: blankstreet@hotmail.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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